


Beaten

by Texan_Red_Rose



Series: Ace!Yang AU [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Hate Speech, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-15 23:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13041363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Texan_Red_Rose/pseuds/Texan_Red_Rose
Summary: Winter, excited about her engagement, catches up with an old friend. Unfortunately, someone overhears the conversation and decides to throw in his two cents, prompting Winter to educate him- the Old School way.





	Beaten

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as “Broken” with ace!Yang, a sequel if you will. Based in part on a comment made by Keena-Kapu as well as the general insanity that comes with military life.

 

Winter sat at her desk, typing furiously in hopes of completing her reports before close of business. While not a fan of having a desk job, she could admit that the benefit of a predictable schedule meant she could plan things out more efficiently and she’d agreed to meet Yang at a florist’s shop in downtown Vale by eighteen hundred. That meant leaving final formation immediately after the command to fall out, which in turn meant she couldn’t be tempted to return to her desk for any reason. General Ironwood had relocated his operations to the tiny outpost in Vale for a few months specifically to facilitate her planning efforts for the wedding and she wouldn’t squander it by being late  _or_  failing to meet the deadlines placed upon her.

By the time someone stepped through the open doorway to her office, Winter had just saved the last of her spreadsheets, a heavy sigh pushing past her lips as she spied the clock. Sixteen-oh-four, about half an hour until formation and another twenty minutes before she’d have to sprint for the docks to make the airship departure on time. If worst came to worst, she could always utilize her personal one and pay the docking fee out of pocket for the unauthorized departure and landing. That meant she had, perhaps, ten minutes to check over all her files before submitting them for review, already more than aware it would take a few minutes to send out the necessary e-mails due to a slow server. Really, how they couldn’t afford more efficient technology boggled her mind.

“Not even a hello? I see you’ve settled into your new administrative role rather comfortably; can’t tear yourself away from the terminal, can you?” Blue eyes darted up to the newcomer, a small smile breaking across her lips as an old friend removed their helmet and set it aside. Unlike the majority of the military, they wore a uniform comprised mostly of reds and browns, a beige jumpsuit beneath rust colored pads, giving their shorter stature a stout, imposing build. “How have you been, Winter?”

“That’s a bit informal for an address, Commander,” she replied, the lightness in her tone reminiscent of teasing without going so far as she stood up, walking around her desk to embrace the other Atlesian soldier. “It’s been a long time.”

“So much has happened over the years, it feels like a lifetime.” Commander Terry Cotta smiled, opening their arms to offer a brief embrace before stepping back and clapping her on the shoulders. “I’m kinda surprised we both survived, honestly. Between the war and the instabilities it caused, we probably should be dead a few times over.”

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your morbid touch,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. Normally, she would be standing ramrod straight at the position of attention for the ranking officer, but their familiarity had put her at ease enough to crack a slightly wider smile. “But we both managed to Cotta it close a few times.”

Rolling their eyes, Terry couldn’t help but chuckle. “I see that girlfriend of yours is having an effect on your sense of humor.”

“Fiancé, actually.” Pulling off her left glove, she showed off the ring. Much like the one she’d presented to Yang, it could expand into a necklace, but she’d learned early on that her uniform made it nigh impossible to show off when around her neck. Besides, seeing as the vast majority of her duties revolved around her desk, wearing the slim band beneath her glove didn’t pose too much of a concern. “We’re getting married in a few months. I mailed an invitation to your house-”

“You mean that building I haven’t seen in almost six years?” Terry raised a brow, but admired the piece of jewelry with a sincere hum of appreciation. “I’ll try stopping by to pick up the envelope on the condition that I’m attending as a friend, only. None of this ‘higher ranking’ crap.” A twinkle sparked in ocean blue eyes, so much darker than her own. “Unless you want to go back to our Academy days when  _you_  outranked  _me._ ”

“I was your team leader- hardly a rank,” she replied, slipping her glove back on and laughing. “But those are terms I’ll agree to and you won’t be the only person in attendance under that stipulation.”

“I should hope not.” They glanced towards the doorway and lowered their voice. “James has done enough for both of us that I’d be a little irate if you didn’t invite him along as well.”

Winter nodded, briefly taken back to a brisk spring morning in her last year at Atlas Academy, when General Ironwood informed all members of Team WHYT that they were being selected for individual duties within the Atlesian military, should they choose to take them. By that point, years of military instructors had made the choice seem easy, and the four went through their graduation ceremony keenly aware they wouldn’t be working together once officially inducted into the rank and file. Winter went through the Specialist Training Program and earned her position six months later while Terry went on to found the Atlas Rapid Response Team. Herron and Yvette took their own paths, though the duo had lost touch with their former teammates during the intervening years. While she hadn’t seen their names listed as KIA during the confrontation with Salem, Herron had shown up on a MIA list shortly after the war’s conclusion and Yvette seemed to disappear out of military records entirely. From their brief contact over the years, Terry had expressed several fruitless attempts to find both of them with little results and Winter, frankly, hadn’t the opportunity to do much besides dig into files she probably shouldn’t access.

“Yang insisted I keep spots open for them. Herron and Yvette, I mean.” She admitted, a note of sadness in her voice. “She thinks it’s good to keep the hope alive. There’s even a spot for her mother…”

Once again, a hand found its way to her shoulder, and for a moment it felt like old times when she and her partner were trying not to be crushed by the heavy expectations placed upon them by every authority figure in their lives. “I know you’ve only told me a little bit about her… complicated relationship with her mom, but I think she’s right. Maybe it’s false hope and it’ll be proven wrong in the end, but I think it’s better to hope for the best in certain circumstances and merely be prepared for the worst.”

“I suppose that’s true. Although, I don’t think she truly believes the woman will show; they’ve only met face-to-face six times in over twenty years.” Winter sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand it myself but I have a different relationship and expectation of my family.”

“Which translates to: you didn’t bother inviting your parents, did you?”

“Of course not. Father’s in prison still and Mother… even if she  _did_  appear, I fear she’d merely try to break Qrow’s sobriety.”

“Wait, Qrow? That civilian who gave you trouble on the Mistral mission years ago?” Terry furrowed their brows. “You invited  _him_?”

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to mention; he’s Yang’s uncle.”

Further surprised, the Commander let out a little chuckle. “Small world.”

“Tell me about it.” She cringed. “He’s more bearable now that he’s sober, though, so I will give him that.” Her gaze darted towards the clock. Sixteen twelve, which meant she hardly had enough time to send out her reports before heading to formation. “Where does the time go?”

“If I knew, I’d steal some back for the both of us.” Terry nodded towards the terminal. “Late night tonight?”

“Absolutely not; we’re going to a florist to decide on arrangements for the wedding.” She walked around the desk and sat back down, pulling up her e-mail, though she did glance at her friend to indicate it wasn’t an outright dismissal. “How long are you docked for?”

“Just the night, really; I was going to submit my reports over the CCT but, considering as I haven’t seen you in a while, I thought I’d drop by and say hello, then deliver my report in person tomorrow morning.” Taking a seat in the chair off to the side and against the wall, they crossed one leg over the other and shrugged. “It’s not often I get a chance to relax, so I thought I should take it, even in small doses. My crew could use a night on the town, too.” They paused, then ducked their head. “And, to be frank, some time away from my team is helping; they’ve been a bit high strung since we officially transitioned out of a ready status. I don’t know how you managed to keep your cool with the lot of us back in the Academy.”

“Honestly, we were all a bit hotheaded back then. All of us had something to prove.” Winter smiled again. “I think I must’ve missed it in the long run. Once you’ve met Yang, you’ll see what I mean; she’s probably the most vibrant person in all of Remnant. Charming, energetic, with a bit of a temper- there won’t be many dull moments in my future and I can’t help but look forward to it.”

“Now  _that_  sounds like a woman in love.” A new voice cut in, calling their attention to a burly man who’d just entered the door. Given by the lack of reaction from Terry, she guessed he belonged to one of the other groups coming to meet with General Ironwood later in the week as part of a quarterly status review of Atlas’ forces. A few more moments of studying the defined jawline and broad chest sparked a small amount of recognition in both of them, expressions sliding into ones of polite disinterest as Winter returned to her work and the Commander addressed him.

“She’ll be getting married soon; I should  _think_  she sounds like a woman in love.” Terry pointed out, a lightness to their tone as they inclined their head. “And she’s rather busy. Do you have anything important to report, Sergeant?”

“Oh, just swingin’ by to pick up a copy of the itinerary for the week,” he said with a good natured chuckle.

If there was one downside to her new position as the operations manager for Atlas’ foreign stationed forces, it was becoming effectively a secretary subject to the ever changing whims of Atlas’ highest echelon of officers. While this man occupied a position similar to hers, she’d rather rid herself of the distraction quickly than enjoy the same level of banter as she did with her old friend. “There’s a copy over there.”

“Ah, got it.” The Sergeant went over and picked up the paper, a lazy smile on his lips. “So, when’s the big day? Better question: when’s the bachelorette party? The last hurrah before the good ol’ ball and chain comes into play?”

While he laughed, Terry quirked a brow, looking over at the woman and seeming interested in the answer.

“Well, I hadn’t planned on anything  _too_  drastic,” she said, running her fingers through her bangs while sighing. “Perhaps a little bar hopping around Vale as a celebration about a month before the ceremony.”

“No strip club?” He seemed genuinely surprised, cocking his head to the side. “Tell me someone’s getting you a prostitute at least.”

“Ex _cuse_  you?” Winter furrowed her brows, hands curling into fists as she tried not to growl out her response. “I’d hardly consider something so… crass. I’m getting  _married_ ; to betray that shortly before entering a union seems completely at odds with the whole point!”

“Ah, an old fashioned type.” The Sergeant seemed hardly concerned by the stiffness of her posture, waving a hand through the air. “Well, you at least sampled the goods, right?”

“Sergeant, I think you’re treading dangerous territory.” Terry cautioned, a frown tugging at their lips.

“It’s alright, Commander,” she said, trying her best to keep her cool. However, there were a few things that she  _never_  passed up, and talking about her soon-to-be wife happened to be one of those topics. “To answer your question, Sergeant, no, I haven’t 'sampled the goods’ as you’ve put it. Yang and I have a wonderful relationship, though, and taking this next step is important to us.”

“Aw, come off it, though. How’re you gonna know if she, uh, really gets your motor going?” He made a rather rude gesture and laughed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, a warm bed’s better than a cold one, but there’s certain things a wife has to do-”

“You need to stop.” The Commander cut in, a warning in their tone, but Winter refused to let the situation be diffused.

“Your boorish attitude makes me think you’re a repeat contender in divorce court, so taking  _your_  advice seems a rather poor choice.” The words flew from her tongue, laced with acid as she just hardly refrained from outright glaring at him. “And aside from your archaic notions of marriage, it’s entirely inapplicable anyway. Yang’s asexual.”

“A what?” Even Terry looked somewhat surprised by the statement, brows knitting together in confusion.

Thankfully,  _this_  response she’d practiced, because ever since she saw the way her fiancé’s expression lit up when she discovered that a name existed for people like her- that there  _were_ people like her- the Atlesian had devoted herself to making sure  _every_  person she met walked away with a very thorough understanding of asexuals and the trials they faced. The two talked it over, of course- after Yang had gone through and called every one of her friends to share the development of discovering the word for this part of herself she’d hidden away- and decided that it wouldn’t be a secret. While she wouldn’t be walking around and introducing herself as an asexual, Yang knew she’d eventually make offhand comments, jokes, and puns about it, because it was just as much part of her as anything else, and Winter fully believed she should acknowledge it as often as reasonably possible, purely to reinforce the idea that she accepted all of her fiancé and everything that entailed. Of course, following the acknowledgment usually came the blank or confused looks she received now, so an explanation would follow. It had taken weeks of reading through countless articles to amass the information, and now presented an excellent opportunity to continue spreading the knowledge as best she could.

“Asexual. It means she doesn’t feel sexual attraction to anyone,” Winter said, a small smile coming to her lips as she ignored her work entirely to continue the explanation. A  _small_  delay wouldn’t hurt, right? “Some asexuals still have sex with their partners but Yang’s one of the ones for whom sexual contact is extremely distressing- sex repulsed is the technical term.” Absolute shock splayed across the man’s face, shoulders slumping as he stared at her. She’d gotten the reaction before, though, and it didn’t even put a dent in her speech. “It means we don’t have sex and that’s fine for both of us; we’ve talked it through completely.” Her lips curled into a soft smile. “We’ve already decided to spend our wedding night rewatching the movie we saw on our first date, except we’ll put it on mute and try to do the dialogue from memory. Personally, I think it’s a better way to spend our time.”

She looked over at her friend, who gave her with a warm look and a nod of approval. “I’m happy for you. Everyone who desires such a relationship should be able to find a love like that.”

“Well, yeah, but… come on.” The Sergeant chuckled awkwardly. “What about you?”

A flicker of annoyance passed across her expression before she reined it in through sheer force of will. “What  _about_  me?”

“How’re you gonna get your rocks off?” He shook his head. “If she ain’t takin’ care of you, are you at least allowed to, ya know. Get some action on the side?”

“That’s… not how…” Her brows furrowed. “Did you miss the part where I explicitly stated we talked the whole thing over? I don’t need to have sex with her and I don’t want to because it upsets her. We’ve been devoted to each other exclusively since the beginning of our relationship and that won’t change. I’m perfectly fine with that.”

The Sergeant just blinked at her. “Well… what the fuck is wrong with her?”

“Nothing is ’ _wrong_ ’ with her.” Her voice raised, louder than before as she tried her best to hang onto her anger. “She doesn’t want to have sex. It’s no different from any other sexual identity-”

“Except, ya know, they  _have sex_.” He spread his hands. “How could it possibly be a 'sexual identity’ if there’s no sex involved?”

“That’s an  _extremely_  pedantic argument to make.”

“Look, if you want to shackle yourself into a sexless marriage from the get-go-”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse-”

“Have you even tried?”

“What kind of question is that?” Winter grit her teeth, standing up and outright glaring at the Sergeant. Memories of the early morning she quite nearly lost the love of her life flashed through her mind, the anger she still felt at her own obliviousness coursing through her and infecting her tone. “It’s no concern of yours at any rate. What my wife and I do with our marriage is not up for discussion.”

He stared at her for a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a pitying look. “Sounds to me like you’re just settlin’ out of not knowing any better. I bet if you just showed her who’s the boss, everything’d be fine.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment- Winter’s mind had ground to a halt, trying to process the words- and then Terry spoke. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Sergeant. Are you suggesting she  _force_  her fiancé to have sex with her?”

“I’m just saying that some gals take a little more convincing. I’d be happy to-” Winter leapt over her desk, cocked back her right fist, and followed through with a solid punch to the man’s jaw that even her lover could be proud of, stopping the vile sentiment cold as the Sergeant’s head whipped to the side. He stumbled back a few steps, eyes cross eyed for a moment before his expression pinched into one of rage. “Oh, you’ve done it now.”

They both raised their fists, entirely prepared to turn the small office into a boxing ring, but a hand landed on her shoulder the same time as another one reached through the doorway and grabbed hold of the Sergeant’s jacket. For a moment, the presence of others really didn’t matter to Winter, but she held herself back when General Ironwood stepped through the doorway, his severe expression bringing both of them to a stop. She was pulled back a few more steps by Terry, the Commander keeping a firm grip on her shoulder to discourage her.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Ironwood scanned both of them, settling his gaze on the unfamiliar face. “Sergeant? Explain yourself.”

“Your Specialist here is under the impression that marrying someone who doesn’t want to have sex with her is a sound decision,” he said, shaking his head even as she pulled against the Commander’s hold.

General Ironwood drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “Both of you, outside, five minutes. We handle this the old school way.”

“With pleasure.” Winter growled out, waiting for her superior to escort the other man out of the office and down the hallway before following suit.

Fury coursed through her veins, hardly aware of the second set of footsteps behind her and more concerned with how she would handle the situation. Years ago, she held a distinct distaste for handling things the 'old school way’, seeing it as nothing more than mindless scrabbling among the lower ranks and hardly fitting of those in respectable positions. However, her mind had changed recently, and she found herself standing outside beneath the shade of a familiar tree just behind the building as others began drifting closer, drawn by both General Ironwood’s presence and the obviously seething Winter and the visiting Sergeant settled into aggressive postures as they squared off against each other. She slid her jacket from her shoulders, rather content with just throwing it behind her as per usual but instead handing the fabric off to Terry for safekeeping. Her old friend seemed more than a little amused that she was going through with this.

“You know the rules: no breaking each other’s aura, no semblances, no weapons, no dragging bystanders into the fight, and no complaining about the outcome,” Ironwood said, his voice loud enough to catch the ears of those too curious for their own good, bringing a fair amount of soldiers closer. Most of them were Atlesians stationed in Vale but a few wore the uniforms of the other kingdoms. “When this is done, you’ll  _both_  put the issue to bed, am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” The Sergeant seemed confused by the strange turn of events but nodded all the same.

Winter just raised her fists, prepared to beat some sense into the man across from her.

Around her, the soldiers whispered among themselves, many curious as to what would prompt the normally straight laced Specialist to engage in a fight, until someone finally voiced their thoughts. “He probably said something about her fiancé and sex.”

“That’s  _exactly_  what happened,” the Commander said, a sigh passing through their lips as the onlookers sucked in a collective hiss. “So, what’s the betting pool look like?”

Someone chuckled mirthlessly. “No thanks. We’ve all lost too much money betting against her when it comes to this.”

Winter relished the slight look of panic on the man’s face as it occurred to the Sergeant that he might’ve bitten off more than he could chew on this one.

She would enjoy his expression after the fight even more.

“Ready?” The General looked between them raising his hand and dropping it a moment later. “Begin!”

The woman shot forward, not even bothering with the feint and weave that would usually precede an earnest battle in favor of laying another solid cross on his jaw. In a normal fight, she would concern herself with things like form and pacing but fury fueled her in the moment and she weathered the straight punch to her face that snapped her head back like whiplash with nothing more than a growl leaving her lips. Usually, she’d concern herself with defense, with the natural rhythm of the fight, but when she came out under this tree- rare as it was- Winter focused on one thing alone: showing whoever pushed her to this point that she would not stand their behavior. She wouldn’t quietly sit back and listen and she wouldn’t just allow those things to be said, because for as many times as she’d been under this tree, handling things in an archaic and brutish manner, it always had something to do with Yang.

It remained a recent development, comparatively. Her fellow soldiers stationed at the Vale outpost had heard quite a bit about Yang prior to their engagement and she took their crass, lewd comments in stride then, because she didn’t know any better. When someone joked that she’d be 'getting some action soon’ or needed to 'spend some  _quality time_  with her girlfriend to loosen up’, she chalked it up to soldiers being soldiers, always a bit too deep in each other’s personal lives as a matter of course for most to avoid the conversations. She thought their issues in the bedroom came down to poor timing and it didn’t bother her that everyone seemed eager to give her pointers on how to  _make_  time. But the first morning she put her uniform on again, returning to the rank and file after nearly losing the woman and coming out the other side with them happily engaged instead, she had a different outlook. The jokes weren’t funny anymore and she made that expressly clear. Most understood- they could be a hard headed bunch, but she rarely asked them politely to do something instead of ordering it, so they listened- but there were always those outliers, those who never knew when they’d pushed a joke too far, and it took precisely three days for the first person to make a suggestion that had sparked her ire.

The onlookers cringed and groaned as she landed another solid strike against the Sergeant’s temple, not minding in the slightest when his retaliatory cross made a cut along the inside of her mouth, drawing a bit of blood. All her aura, all her focus lay in her hands, to a degree not even Yang would suggest trying were she to bear witness to the fight. Hours spent training together- at first as a means of overcoming Salem’s forces and slowly turning into something just as intimate as sex, a way to be with each other without facades or words, reading the other’s body language and pushing themselves to the limits- had given Winter a rather extensive lesson in hand-to-hand combat, far more detailed and nuanced than the standard combative training given to all Atlesian soldiers.

So when he tried another straight punch, she ducked beneath his arm and shot up, the heel of her palm hitting him square on the chin and rattling his jaw a moment before she drove her shoulder into his armpit, grabbed his arm, and flipped him over her and onto the flat of his back. It knocked the wind out of him and threw off his concentration, which would make now the perfect time to land another hit and bring his aura down even further, but she didn’t. Winter waited, barely maintaining an iron clad grip on her restraint to allow the Sergeant to get back to his feet, shaking his head to try and get his bearings. Something she’d learned in dealing with soldiers the 'old school way’: sometimes, a sound beating was all it took to discourage ridiculous behavior. Other times, pain was needed, a longer and more drawn out process to truly drive the point home.

This man happened to fall into the latter category.

Pushing himself to his feet, he whirled around with a blind haymaker that she side stepped easily, taking the opportunity to drive her elbow into his gut. Winded a second time in as many minutes, it took almost no effort on her part to sweep his legs from under him and throw him back to the ground. Again, she didn’t follow him to the ground, instead dancing back around to await him standing back up. Really, she was offering him a mercy- all he had to do was stay down- but some were just too stubborn, and the Sergeant lumbered back up to his feet with a groan. As he looked at her then, she knew another knock to the ground would push his sense to the forefront, ahead of his pride.

So, she baited him, dropped her guard just enough to give him a glimmer of hope to win the fight overall, and she paid the price for that with a wicked cross across her jaw followed by a strong, straight punch into her gut that took away her breath, causing her to stumble slightly. The pain flared throughout her ribcage, her diaphragm aching as she tried to draw breath, but she could ignore it as the Sergeant’s lips twisted into that same little grin he’d worn in her office, her fury reignited and pushing her forward.

A left and a right, snapping his head to the side slightly, because they weren’t full strength and only meant to distract him as she prepared to lower her shoulder and slam it forward, sending the man stumbling back until he lost his footing under their combined weight. Winter wasted no time in sitting up, knees on either side of his stomach and winding back her left fist. She was right handed and the majority strength lay in that arm, but this was to prove a point. Her wedding back lay just beneath her gloves and while it wasn’t a weapon in its own right- something Ruby had been a bit disappointed about- but it served a symbolic purpose.

She liked to think she was literally beating the concept into him, that she was marrying Yang- her Sundrop, the one woman who’d somehow managed to carve her heart out of the solid sheet of ice she’d built up over the years- and that it didn’t matter whether or not other people understood it. She expected them to accept it without question. She loved Yang and the woman loved her, wholeheartedly and unabashedly, and the opinions of a few small minded individuals wouldn’t change that.

“Stand down; do  _not_  intervene.” Ironwood’s voice boomed out even as she continued throwing punch after punch, shifting her aim to slip past his arms, which were raised in defense. It didn’t matter where her strikes hit, just that she didn’t give him a chance to recover, her burning lungs, chest, and arm a small price to pay to drive the point home as literally as possible.

There was no higher point in her life than when Yang said yes. When they’d held each other close, relief and happiness flooding her system. Every jeering comment trying to take away from that only pushed her to keep punching, keep taking on anyone daring to challenge her relationship. She didn’t want or need their approval but she  _refused_  to let them pass judgment on Yang, to belittle or look down upon her, and she would give everything, up to and including her dying breath, to protect her fiancé from those disgusting ideas, the very ones that had shaped the younger woman into thinking something was wrong with her. Cretins like the Sergeant were directly responsible for Yang’s poor self image in that regard, in perpetuating the terrible myth that someone like her needed to be 'fixed’ at all.

Winter knew, on some level, that she couldn’t undo years of social conditioning and expectation. But damnit if she didn’t feel better when she landed the last punch, able to see the flash across his cheek that showed it would only take a few more strikes to break his aura completely and start doing  _real_  damage.

Temptation whispered in her ear for one more shot and she froze with her fist cocked back. No one moved to stop her- not Terry, not General Ironwood, not any of the other soldiers- and she felt confident she could throw one more without facing reprimand.

But she was better than that. She’d made her point, and if the dazed expression on the Sergeant’s face was any indication, she’d done so rather thoroughly.

Winter got up, finally remembering the blood that had collected in her mouth from the cut that she could now heal, spitting out the blood and leveling a gaze at the unfamiliar faces around her.

“Would anyone  _else_  like to have their say?” Cool blue eyes slowly scanned their faces, watching as one after another looked away. She wiped at her mouth, turning around to face her commanding officer and surprised to see Yang standing beside the General, a mixture of shock and awe in her expression. “Yang?”

“What the  _hell_  is going on here?” Shock seemed to be overcome by a strange sort of amusement as her lips pulled into a crooked smile. “Aren’t you always telling me you can’t beat sense into people?”

“Technically, I said  _you_  can’t beat sense into people,” she replied, the corner of her mouth tugging up into a little smirk. “I never said  _I_  couldn’t.”

Yang rolled her eyes, setting her hands on her hips while laughing. “Ah, of course,  _there’s_  the distinction I missed.” Lilac eyes darted to the Sergeant, who seemed to be regaining his feet with muttered curses and a pop or two, likely from his back. “But seriously, Snowdrift, what’s going on? I come out here to surprise you and I find you beating the shit out of some dude? That’s… not usually your style.”

“I thought you’d be impressed I’m putting those hand-to-hand combat lessons to good use.” Winter smiled, glancing over her shoulder. “It was… just a bit of a disagreement between soldiers. Nothing to be concerned about.”

She could see the hint of skepticism in her fiancé’s eyes. Of course she’d mentioned once or twice why she’d come home with a ruffled uniform and stains from both grass and dirt in the fabric, that sometimes soldiers settled their differences through shows of brute force rather than words, but Yang probably suspected what really caused those arguments in the first place. After all, it had only started happening after they’d gotten engaged, and the blonde was nothing short of an excellent detective when the mood struck her. Trying to surprise the woman had proven that much.

Turning back towards the Sergeant, Winter offered her hand, all warmth fleeing her as she saw the sour twist to his expression. This wasn’t a loss he’d take easily. But he shook her hand all the same, allowing her to turn away and take a single step towards her beloved.

And then he did something monumentally stupid.

“You know, you probably wouldn’t be that angry if you got laid every once in a while,” he said, the snideness in his tone not disguised in the least.

Winter turned, ready to lunge for him again, but strong arms wrapped around her waist and prevented her from making contact even as one of the other soldiers spoke up.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you.” She recognized the man who stepped forward then as one of the ones she’d dealt with first, remembering clearly the disbelief that splayed across his features when she called him outside. He hadn’t put up much of a fight then- caught between shock and guilt- but he had more than enough strength to grab onto the Sergeant’s arm and pull him off balance, so that half a dozen others could grab the battered man and pull him off his feet, hoisting him into the air amid his struggling.

“Specialist Betrugs,” General Ironwood said, a severe edge to his voice. “What, exactly, are you doing?”

“Introducing the Sergeant to our twelve step program for 'shutting the fuck up’… Sir.”

“Now wait a-” Any further objection was silenced as another soldier wrapped an arm around his head, muffling his words.

For a moment, the senior officer remained silent. “I expect to see a certificate of completion, Specialist.”

“Will do, Sir.” Without further ado, the group of soldiers hauled the struggling Sergeant towards the building while the majority of the others looked the other way, becoming suddenly invested in deep conversations.

“So, this is Yang?” The Commander stepped forward, dipping their head politely seeing as the blonde’s arms were still tightly wrapped around Winter’s waist.

“Yeah. You must be Terry.” Her right hand came away as she offered it to the other soldier, though she didn’t seem keen on giving her fiancé room to move just yet. “Nice to finally meet the legend.”

“Oh, I’m not all that impressive.” They chuckled, eyes darting between the two briefly. “Congratulations, by the way. I’m glad to see my old team leader’s found someone who isn’t afraid to stand between her and her likely self destructive goal. She can be a little funny like that.”

“Trust me- it runs in the family,” Yang replied, an audible smirk in her voice as she loosened her grip slightly. “You gonna be alright, Snowdrift?”

Winter had watched the retreating soldiers, barely managing not to follow after them herself and instead forcing her fury to the back of her mind for the moment. She could, at the very least, take comfort in knowing those who already understood her position would stand behind her when she needed them. “I’m fine. I apologize that your surprise had to be ruined by that cretin.” She sighed. “I really wished I could believe Atlesian soldiers are better than such lowly behavior.”

“No one group, no matter how well trained, is without its… bad apples.” General Ironwood’s lips turned down into a frown as she spoke, his attention shifting to Terry. “Commander, will you go ensure that this 'twelve step program’ goes well?”

“Is that an order or a request?” With a chuckle, they nodded, the question obviously rhetorical as they snapped off a leisurely salute and returned Winter her jacket. “I’ll see to it, Sir. And I’ll have my report ready for tomorrow morning.”

“Good. And delay your return to Atlas by a week.” He ran a hand over his face, obviously regretting the words even as they left his mouth. “Put your crew on shore leave; your next mission will be handled by the bravo team. I’m going to have to issue a standing order and develop a training program, and I’ll need your assistance on both fronts.”

“Understood.” They nodded towards the three of them before heading towards the building. “I’ll see you around, Specialist.”

“Yes, Commander.” She drew in a deep breath as she put her coat back on, letting it out slowly before turning towards the General. “Sir, I can-”

“Consider yourself dismissed for the day,” he said, waving off her concern. “Whatever you haven’t finished can be completed tomorrow and I think all of us should… enjoy some time off.” Raising his voice, he called out to the remaining soldiers. “You lot know the drill. Good work, be safe, and see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

A chorus of responses ranging from far too enthusiastic to relatively bored resounded through the air, immediately followed by the more eager soldiers rushing towards their barracks or vehicles while others left at a more leisurely pace. Winter fell into the latter category, turning towards the small parking lot by the building where Bumblebee sat, two helmets perched atop the seat. They got perhaps halfway to the bike before Yang tugged lightly at her hand, a small frown on her fiancé’s lips.

“Look… I know you’re going to say this is one of those military things I’m just not gonna understand but…” lilac eyes darted back towards the building “… what the  _hell_  just happened?”

She considered, very briefly, brushing off the inquiry. She’d done such previously, when a complete lack of context might’ve generated more questions than it answered. Now, however, Winter found that attempting to avoid the question would just worry her fiancé, and she let out a small sigh before turning to look the woman in the eye. “Sometimes, when soldiers disagree, we talk through our fists. It’s a touch… barbaric, perhaps, but sometimes we’re so entrenched in our own mindsets, that it takes a painful reminder to drive the point home.”

“And that somehow requires a twelve step program?” Yang raised a brow, able to tell that she was putting things rather lightly.

“No, that’s a more… extreme measure for those who don’t learn their lesson the first time.” She glanced towards the building. “It involves stuffing the difficult individual into a footlocker, and then tossing that footlocker down a flight of stairs. Or several.”

“Whoa. That’s, uh… pretty extreme…” The blonde spoke slowly, as if unsure exactly how to react, brows knitting together in slight confusion. “What was the disagreement about?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “He made some tasteless comments that I found highly offensive.” A moment of silence passed and it looked like Yang was indecisive about whether or not to push one more time to get to the heart of the matter, the slight slump to her shoulders hinting that her fiancé would let it go like all the times before, trusting that if Winter remained this reticent about it that she should leave it alone for now. But the woman didn’t want to keep secrets and it would only become more of a sore spot if she kept it hidden away. “I was speaking with Terry about our wedding and the Sergeant began offering his unsolicited opinion about how I should celebrate. In the course of the conversation, it came up that you’re not interested in sex, and he… refused to accept that.” Winter frowned as she tried to keep her anger in control once more, though she did throw a glare towards the tree. “Ultimately, I had only one choice: make it very,  _very_  clear that I wouldn’t abide such comments being made about you.” She reached out, putting her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. “But it was  _my_  choice, Sundrop. I could’ve remained silent and disengaged from the conversation or let Terry handle it in a more diplomatic fashion.  _I_  chose to handle it the way I did.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Yang sighed, shaking her head and shrugging off her fiancé’s hands. “I get it- I’ve definitely fought my way through a few bars in my lifetime, but this is different. This is your  _career_  that could be impacted, Snowdrift. I know you’re pretty much bulletproof as long as Ironwood is calling the shots, but what if one of these guys takes it personal and comes after you later down the line?”

“Then I’ll handle it,” she replied, ignoring the chorus of shouts that emanated from the building, a sure sign the soldiers were so far successful in their aims. “These sorts of things are often forgotten quite easily. Most come away from the experience with respect for their opponent-”

“Yeah, he definitely acted like he  _respected_  you, that was kinda hard to miss.” The woman scowled, turning towards the bike. For a moment, blue eyes fell on the patch newly affixed to the right shoulder of Yang’s jacket, the ace flag’s darker colors making a bold statement, and a smile curling her lips before the seriousness of the conversation reasserted itself. “Look, maybe I just don’t  _get_  the military, but I still don’t think you should’ve gotten into a fight for my sake. Especially not when you’re fighting like  _that_.” She made a vague gesture towards the tree. “You didn’t keep your guard up, you didn’t block or redirect even  _one_  attack; if that guy had known what he was doing, you would’ve been knocked flat on your ass in a minute, tops.”

“I find it hard to believe you’re  _that_  upset by my technique.” Winter took a few long strides, enough to cut her fiancé off before she could reach the motorcycle. “There’s something else-”

“What? Me? Upset about something other than my fiancé picking fights with people? What gives you  _that_  idea?” She blinked, a brief flash of red replacing lilac before it vanished and Yang sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not going to change their minds. You feel differently than they do but they… they aren’t  _wrong_ -”

“ _Yes_ , they are,” she said, an edge to her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest. Some part of her realized that getting angry with each other wouldn’t help but she couldn’t stop the heat creeping into her voice. “They don’t get to have a say about our relationship; that’s between us and  _we_  are on the same page. If they can’t keep their comments to themselves or accept that they’re wrong, I’m well within my right to make it known that I  _won’t_  abide such behavior-”

“And how many times  _have_  you done that, I wonder.” Although slightly shorter, the other woman drew herself up and met her gaze with eyes a few shades off from their usual color, her anger beginning to get the better of her. “I guess it would be wishful thinking to assume this was the first.” Her expression screwed up until she turned her head away. “I mean, I’ve  _seen_  it, the aftermath anyway. You’ve been getting into these fights because of me, and I don’t care what you  _think_  would happen after, the fact is you’ve been making enemies who might come back to bite you, all because I’m-”

“ _Don’t_  say it.” She held up a finger, brows furrowing into a scowl at the words she just  _knew_ were on the tip of Yang’s tongue. “There is one reason and one reason  _only_  that any of these little disputes occurred:  _I_  didn’t like the way things were said and  _I_  chose to do something about it.” She inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly to try and rein in her anger somewhat. “I know you’re used to taking the blame, to accepting fault for other’s actions, because you’ve always been the one to deal with what was left behind.” She didn’t specify beyond that but the way her fiancé reached up, fingertips running across the anchor of her prosthetic, it was obvious she’d made her point. “This? This has nothing to do with you, specifically. If I’d chosen to marry anyone else in all of Remnant, my reaction would be the same. I’ve spent  _my_ life allowing my father to say whatever he damn well pleased about a whole host of subjects and never spoke up in defense of myself or voiced my thoughts on the matters discussed. I don’t live under his thumb anymore, though, and I will  _not_  allow anyone to stifle my voice again.”

Slowly, she took a few steps forward, relieved when her fiancé didn’t draw away. She carefully wrapped her arms low around the woman’s waist, still offering her plenty of room to withdraw if she felt it necessary.

But she didn’t and Winter could take a bit of solace from that.

“What  _does_  pertain to you is the nature of their comments. I strongly feel I wouldn’t be a good match for you if I just  _let_  people say things like that, knowing as I do how uncomfortable they’d make  _you_  feel.” Winter leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against her fiance’s forehead. “Maybe there are better ways of getting my point across, but this is the military way, and it’s the one I know everyone understands. And I won’t lose, not when I’m fighting to protect you, even from the things you can’t see. That’s my job.”

Yang sighed, leaning into her embrace and returning it, a bit too tight for comfort. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting into these fights over me. There’s a lot of things that could go wrong- this could end your career, or a sore loser could come back and try to get you when your guard is down, or someone could take a pot shot when your back is turned.” The arms around her waist squeezed tighter, and she’d grown accustomed to the unyielding metal pressing against her lowest rib enough that the pressure brought a smile to her lips rather than a wince. “I don’t want you losing your career or getting hurt because of me.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” Although she hadn’t intended the panic to flash across her fiancé’s face, she did find herself chuckling at its presence. “If James came to me right now and said I only had two options- remain in the military or marry you- I’d choose you without a sliver of regret.” As Yang calmed down, she lowered her voice, speaking softly as one hand came up to cup the other woman’s jaw. “Jobs and careers come and go. Money comes and goes. Love stays with us, pulls us off our knees when we’re weary, lifts burdens from our shoulders when we’re weak, and gives us the wings we need to reach the height of our potential. I can live without the military; it will take a period of adjustment, but at the end of the day, it’s a means to sustain myself.” She leaned her head down until their foreheads touched. “Without you, though, life is just a monotonous slough from day-to-day. Now that I know what it’s like to love you, I can’t go back to how I was before. I can find another job, I can deal with whatever hardships come my way, so long as I have you by my side. And no fight, no single battle, no protracted war, will  _ever_  be enough to deter me.”

“So, you’re not going to stop fighting?” The blonde sighed, looking up at her with a sad smile on her lips. “Not even if I asked?”

A frown touched her lips as she drew back, considering. Personally, she didn’t see the reason Yang would object to her handling a few hecklers every now and then, but she had to admit that, were the shoe on the other foot, she’d feel compelled to assure her fiancé that such measures weren’t necessary. She didn’t particularly care what others said about  _her_ ; it was their comments about Yang that managed to get under her skin, and similarly she wouldn’t want the other woman to get injured or in severe trouble just to defend her. “If you ask it of me, I’ll do it. I’ll find other ways of handling the situations.”

“Just ignore them.” Her fiancé smiled, leaning into the hand still cupping her cheek. “I know that feels strange, like you’re just letting things happen, but we’ve spent enough time with the world on our shoulders. Don’t let it bother you. Like you said,  _we_  are on the same page, so screw what everyone else says, okay?” She pushed up, just enough to catch Winter’s lips in a brief kiss. “People talking trash about me is no reason to risk your job or your health.”

“I’m tempted to be offended you think I’ll come to serious harm through a fistfight.”

“Snowdrift, with the technique  _you_  had on display, I’m surprised you  _haven’t_  been injured yet.”

“We don’t allow for the breaking of aura.” She defended, slipping down for another kiss to bolster her mood. While she certainly didn’t regret any of her actions in recent months, knowing that Yang didn’t approve of her methods of handling the situation did make her feel a touch embarrassed about the whole ordeal. She should’ve spoken up sooner rather than trying to pretend like the altercations were one off affairs. Sometimes, Winter simply thought more as a soldier than a lover, and it at least highlighted an instance where she would need to improve prior to their wedding day.

“You were bleeding.”

“I had my aura redirected, and it was  _just_  a little cut.”

Her fiancé laughed, pulling her into another kiss and sneaking a hand up, running blunt fingernails against the base of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. “Yeah, well, no more 'little cuts’, okay? We’ve got our hands full fighting Grimm. No reason to start fights with people who are supposed to be on our side.”

“If you insist.”

“Specialist Schnee!” The General’s voice called out, bringing her attention back to the tree. There, the man stood next to Terry, both of whom seemed slightly concerned but doing their best to hide it. “A word.”

“Duty calls.” Yang chuckled, drawing away and turning towards her motorcycle. “Go see what he wants, and then we’ll head out to the florist’s. Sound like a plan?”

“Indeed. This shouldn’t take long.” Winter strode towards her friend and commanding officer, bracing herself when she saw the particular way James’ brow furrowed. “Yes, Sir?”

“Is everything alright?” His gaze darted over her shoulder briefly, voice soft. “I hope this hasn’t put you in an awkward position. I would’ve told someone to keep her away had I known-”

“Everything’s fine,” she said, a slight sigh slipping past her lips. “It’s my fault for not bringing it up with her the first time it happened. I’ll simply have to find a new manner of dealing with anyone trying to speak ill of Yang. Apparently, she’s concerned that either my career or person might suffer from picking all these fights. I’m tempted to remind her that we’ve been through far worse.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but… that seems like a  _very_  weak excuse.” Terry frowned, their voice carrying more than just a note of skepticism.

Although she didn’t put it into words, Winter felt the same. She honestly suspected it had more to due to with her fiancé’s innate desire to have others not worry about her than a genuine concern for her career, but she wouldn’t make more of a scene while they were out in public. Whatever the real reason- even if that  _was_  the real reason- they could discuss it in depth once they got home, away from prying eyes. “Be that as it may, it’s what she wants, and the least I can do is honor her request.”

“Well, I suppose that-” They cut off suddenly, eyes narrowing and directed just over Winter’s shoulder as their shoulders slumped. “I apologize ahead of time for what’s about to happen. I swear, I have no control over her on the best of days.”

Confused, she turned back to see Yang, astride her bike and with her helmet placed just in front of her- a matching white one for Winter set on the seat behind her- with a small, polite smile on her lips. Leaning against the handlebars was a woman with long, brown hair, and almost offensively bright yellow trousers and a short sleeved red shirt, showing off her lithe build. Off to the side stood an absolute mountain of a man, with a bushy beard and a knit cap that seemed far too warm for the weather, and a smaller, seemingly nervous man beside him, while a younger woman- almost a child, really- admired Bumblebee from up close, taking a look at the engine. Yang and the woman seemed to be exchanging pleasant conversation, though something caused her fiancé to put her hands up and lean back with a shake of her head before nodding towards Winter. The negative response didn’t seem to bother the other woman, who glanced towards the soldiers before saying something else.

Something her fiancé, quite obviously, didn’t appreciate.

“Hey, Snowdrift!” Winter noted the tension in her fiancé’s posture and the note of anger in her tone. “That stuff we were just talking about?”

“Yes?”

“Forget it,” she said, with a shake of her head. Then, in the blink of an eye, she’d wound back her left fist and threw a vicious punch straight into the brown haired woman’s face. Virtually no one seemed surprised as the woman went flying back and James even went so far as to groan in slight exasperation.

“I’ll hazard a guess that this is a recurring issue?”

“There’s a saying that old dogs can’t learn new tricks.” Terry rubbed at their temple idly. “What I’ve found is that  _new_  dogs can’t learn  _old_  tricks, either.” With a sigh, they raised their voice. “Forecastle! Cirrus! Pick Semper up and take her back to the barracks before she gets herself into more trouble!”

“Roger that!” With brief salutes, the two men went over to help up their comrade, who seemed a bit dazed and disoriented but ready to continue the fight.

“She’s a shameless flirt with no filter and more muscle than sense.” The Commander sighed, starting to follow their soldiers. “I should go see to them. I do apologize for her behavior.”

“You two should probably get out of here before someone  _else_  decides to start a fight,” James said, a lilt of amusement in his voice. “I’ll take care of the Sergeant and Commander Cotta’s wayward soldier. You’re dismissed, Specialist Schnee. Now, get out of here. I mean it.”

“Yes, Sir.” Winter gave him a crisp salute, then returned to the bike. Her gaze remained trained on her fiancé’s posture, noticing how it relaxed by degrees. “I’m a little surprised you changed your mind.”

Yang flashed her a small smile. “I, uh, guess I might’ve misunderstood what sort of comments that guy had made.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line for a moment. “I… can’t really blame you for wanting to knock some heads together, if it’s anything like what  _she_  said.”

“Is it something you’d be willing to repeat, even knowing I won’t take it personally?”

Lilac eyes flashed red. “No.”

“Then we’re in agreement.” She offered a little shrug. “Sometimes… there’s only one way to handle the military sort.”

“I guess so.” Yang shook her head, picking her helmet up and scooping up the one behind her, offering it to the other woman. “Just, promise me you won’t ever get that hardheaded.”

With a warm smile, she accepted the white helmet, leaning over to place a kiss on her fiancé’s cheek. “There’s another secret you should know about us military types. The moment we are pronounced married,  _you_  are my commanding officer when I step into the house.” She paused. “But the backyard and garage is  _my_  domain.”

Her fiancé laughed. “What would  _you_  do in the backyard or garage?”

As she straddled the motorcycle, she had to admit that was a good point. “How about the study and the living room, then?”

“Do we still get to have movie nights?”

“Of course.”

“Sold.” Yang laughed, strapping her helmet into place and bringing the engine to life with a loud roar.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone tells you they're 'old school military', ask 'em if they ever got shoved into a foot locker. If they look at you like you're crazy, they either aren't 'old school' at all or had a VERY nice job. If they immediately burst out laughing, you're in for story time. I'm not saying it was a perfect system or even a good one, but it certainly lead to some interesting dynamics.


End file.
